


Unexpected Heat

by bookjunkiecat



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, F/M, Greg knows what to do, Heat/Mating Cycles, Internalized hatred, Molly has the horn, Non-Standard Biology, Omegaverse, Self-Doubt, Sex and Knotting, Sherlock is a matchmaker, True Love, just go with it, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 20:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11192640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: In a world where there are only Alpha, Beta and Omega, and every good Omega knows their place, Molly has a difficult time accepting her nature. She's spent years fighting it, hating it, and since the disastrous ending of her engagement and Bond with Tom, she has relied on heat suppressants and toys. But now her own biology is triumphing and she's alone and on edge. Cue our good Sir Galahad; Greg arrives just at the right time. After a failed marriage and years of silently loving Molly Hooper, he's in the right place at just the right time for once in his stupid life.Now if he can just convince Molly he's the Alpha she needs.If he can just get her to give him a chance to prove he's everything she needs.





	Unexpected Heat

**Author's Note:**

> My very first A/B/O story! I used a mishmash of the various verses out there and created my own head canon. See the end of the work for notes on how I think this would all work.  
> To my loyal readers who are wondering why I'm posting this when I have three other stories due for updates, my apologies. This got in my head and WOULD NOT GET OUT! Finally I had enough of Greg and Molly fighting and fornicating and wrote it down. It took me two days and there are one or two places where I think it could be better, but overall I'm pleased. Hope you all enjoy it as well!  
> Please be so kind as to leave kudos and comments, this writer thrives on them.

**Molly needs your help. Go to her home at once- SH**

What? Why, what’s wrong?

**Immediately, Galahad- SH**

It’s GREG as you’re aware. What’s wrong with Molly?!

**John says to tell you riot response is not necessary- SH**

WHAT’S WRONG WITH MOLLY?

SHERLOCK?

SHERLOCK!

 

******

 

          Having committed at least one traffic offense, Greg swerved his car in front of the kerb outside Molly Hooper’s ground floor flat, parking hastily, and jumped out, jogging down the recessed stairs that led to her front door. He was aware of a high level of tension, wondering just what fuckery was going on now. Sherlock hadn’t ever responded to his texts and there was every chance that Greg would arrive to find Molly needed help opening a jar of Branston pickle, or alternately just as likely, given how mad an orbit Sherlock existed in, that she was being held hostage by the latest lunatic to wish to use her as a bargaining piece.

          He hammered on the door, raising his voice to call Molly’s name. There was a light on inside, and he pounded his fist on the door. “Molly! It’s Greg! Are you okay? Sherlock—”

          The curtain twitched over the tiny pane of glass in the door, and he saw Molly’s big brown eyes peeping at him; she was so petite that he couldn’t see anything below her eyes. Her eyes looked a bit anxious, and Greg stopped yelling, waiting for her to open the door. “Hi, Greg,” Molly called through the glass after a moment of them staring at one another. “I’m fine.”

          He waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “Um, Sherlock said you needed my help?”

          He watched in interest as she closed her eyes briefly, and her head dropped forward to thunk against the door. “Molls?”

          “Yeah…um, I’m fine, Greg, really. I don’t know what Sherlock’s on about.” Molly laughed nervously, sounding suspect as hell, her head was back where he could see it now, but her eyes were shifting away from him with every other look. He noticed her normally neatly arranged hair was sticking sweatily to her forehead.

          “Why don’t you open the door for a minute,” he coaxed, smiling his nicest, most placating, victim soothing smile. “I hate to disturb the neighbors yelling through the door like this.” She didn’t look like she would budge, so he used guilt. Molly was a soft touch. “Plus I really need the loo.” He gave her his best pleading puppy dog eyes and tried to look as if disaster were imminent.

          “Oh, um…” Greg saw the moment the lie occurred to her. He leaned one shoulder on the door and waited, “I’m sorry but my toilet is, um, broken.”

          “Let me in and I’ll take a look,” _Smile your most charming, I’m a capable, handy, handy man smile at her_ , he counseled, and did just that.

          “Oh!” Molly tittered nervously, “No—no need. I have a plumber coming.”

          “I’ll take a look for free.”

          “That’s…that’s so sweet of you Greg,” Molly gritted out, looking as if she thought it anything but. Her head disappeared from view for a moment, and he waited. She popped back up, face flushed, “I’m a bit under the weather though, wouldn’t want to get you sick.”

          “Got the constitution of a horse,” Greg informed her cheerfully, and watched with interest as a despairing look crossed over her face. “Might as well let me in, Molls, I’m as stubborn as an old donkey.”

          Her forehead thunked against the door once more, and after a moment he heard fumbling, then the door cracked open, safety chain in place. Molly’s face appeared in the gap. Her mouth opened to speak but before she could, Greg was body slammed with the smell of her. _Omega. Heat. Mate. Bond. Nownownow_ , his lizard brain urged frantically. Luckily he was an evolved, modern Alpha, and he tamped down on his immediate desire to shove the door open, throw Molly over his shoulder and mount her on the nearest available surface.

          “ _Shit_ ,” he breathed, unable to help himself. His face went tight with longing, with restraint, with an agitation that he saw mirrored in Molly’s face. If she had wanted him she would have opened the door and let him in. _Back off_ , he warned himself, aware his hands were gripping the door frame to the point of pain, nails gouging the painted wood; his body was straining towards her, and already his cock was at full mast. “I’m—Molly—Sherlock said you needed my help,” he finally managed a coherent sentence, “Are you in any immediate danger?”

          She shook her head, and he told himself to step back.

          “Do you,” he swallowed, closing his eyes to try and distance himself from her desperate face, but found immediately that it was a mistake, as her smell, her glorious, aroused, Omega on the verge of Heat smell played havoc with his senses, seeming all the stronger for removing one of his senses. “Do you need my help?” He managed the question through a tight, burning throat, after convulsively swallowing several times. _Say no._

          _Say yes._

“I can manage by myself,” Molly spoke with difficulty, breathing getting heavier; her smell was peaking, the pull of pheromones tugging at his sex-obsessed inner Alpha. “I have experience at that.” She spoke the last in a rueful undertone, a thread of bitterness underlying her matter of fact tone.

          “I have experience too.”

          That hadn’t been what he intended on saying. Greg certainly hadn’t intended on saying it with a sultry promise ringing clear as a bell in his increasingly husky voice.

          Molly pressed herself against the door, biting her lip. “I-I only need someone this one time. I’m off my suppressants while I switch brands. I’m not looking for a mate. I don’t want to Bond.” Her small fingers clung desperately to the edge of the door, her blown wide pupils turning her eyes black, “I’m fine alone.”

          “I’m not looking for a mate either,” Greg said, and she closed the door, the chain lock was undone and the door opened. He crossed the threshold, vibrating with need.

          “My house, my rules,” Molly said breathlessly, chin up, trying to look dominant, which he found absurdly hot. “Just the one time, you can Knot me, and then I want you to go.” Her chin jerked up and her color rose. “I have toys that can take care of the other two days.”

          “Do you want this, truly?” Greg hesitated, his Alpha howling at his delay. “Please, Molly, tell me now. Show me.”

          Biting her much-abused bottom lip, which was red, swollen and inviting his tongue to sooth it, Molly kept her eyes on him. She did not turn her head and submissively bare her throat, but she turned her wrists toward him, signaling her agreement. “Yes.” They would share her Heat but she would not submit to a Bond. Greg tried not to care, tried to tell himself this one time would be enough. His years of longing would be satisfied by this solitary encounter. It was a lie, but he could live with it. Had to live with it.

          Inside him the beast stretched, trying to preen, wanting to cajole her Omega into total capitulation. Greg maintained his control, feeling sweat crawl down his spine, moisten his hairline. He stepped forward and she stood her ground, and their eyes clung as their base selves absorbed the heat building between them, scenting one another.

          The heavy, almost overpowering smell of dried roses, a sharp, salty tang of seawater, the thin, acidic smell of chemicals, ripe sex, and underlying it all, something delicious, something that Greg thought might be the smell of Molly herself.

          He was so caught up in trying to identify her smell that Greg almost missed the moment when Molly began to undress. She wasn’t slow, or hesitant or shy, nor brash and sultry. She merely stepped out of her soaked cotton knickers and pulled her cotton sleep shirt over her head, baring her body to him. _Small, beautiful, perfect, mine_ , he thought in awe, trying to shelve that last thought. Just one time, just this one time; he needed to remember every moment and keep his head, because he got one chance and then he was out in the cold.

          “I want to enjoy this,” Molly was flushed, tiny drops of sweat beginning to bead on her overheated skin, a fine tremor shaking her slender frame, signs of her Heat trying to take control, but she was implacable, forcing it to submit to her as much as she was able. She watched as he fumbled to remove his clothes with fingers that were suddenly thick and unwieldy. “You don’t Knot until I tell you.”

          Fuck that was a bit hot. He’d never had a bossy Omega before. “Can I taste you?” Greg asked, stripping off his clothes with awkward haste and cringing at how eager to please he sounded. He liked to think of himself as a modern man but his inner Alpha was chafing at the delay, his appeasing demeanor, Molly’s rules. He mentally slapped himself upside the head, told his inner beast, _you wanna Knot or you wanna go home horny?_ With a whine his Alpha subsided and Greg stood naked in front of the petite Omega, waiting for her permission _._

          Her breathing accelerated at his words, or maybe at his nude form. Greg was aware that despite the inherent virility of an Alpha, he was fifteen years older than Molly, and that middle age had played its tricks on him the way it did to everyone. Still, he thought he cut a pretty fine figure. If Molly’s undulating hips as she circled him with dark, predatory eyes were any indication, she agreed. He was so hard it hurt, and his senses were overwhelmed by her aroma; all he wanted to do was throw her down on the ground and enter her, pounding senselessly until he Knotted and filled her.

          He hadn’t been so careless or so graceless since he was a brash twenty-five year old. “Are you on birth control?” Greg asked roughly, giving his cock a quick squeeze to relieve some of the pressure.

          “Uh, uh, uh,” Molly tsked, drawing a shivery trail up his spine with one short nail, “No fair starting without me.” He was achingly cognizant of her presence, just behind him and slightly to one side, the hot damp caress of her breath on his shoulder blade, the teasing drag of one nipple against his arm. “Of course I am,” she added, sounding practical and clear headed, her usual capable self.

          The biological imperative to fill her with his seed and stay Knotted to ensure she became pregnant sang in his veins. Luckily Greg was present enough to be grateful that Molly was protected from pregnancy, as he had no desire at his age to become a sire, nor did he want to tie a reluctant mate to him that way. If he won Molly he wanted it to be for himself, from choice, made while they were both clear headed, free from Heat and Rut. _Not going to happen_ , he reminded himself, and focused on the beautiful brunette who stood so close. He repeated his earlier question, “May I taste you?”

          Molly moved around him, locked the door, secured the deadbolt and turned, leaning back against the metal door, which must have felt heavenly on her over-heated skin. “By all means,” she purred throatily, and Greg exulted that she seemed to be conceding to the moment at hand. He would have kissed her, but she turned her face slightly, and although the denial stung, Greg acceded to her wishes and did not press the issue.

          He crowded close, sniffing her neck, kissing her silky, hot skin, drinking in her wonderful smell and the soft gasp when he closed his lips around her earlobe and sucked. Shackling the desire to lock his teeth on her throat, to suck and bite and mark and Bond, Greg nuzzled and grazed his way down her neck, brushing his lips over her collarbone, licking sweat from the hollow of her throat.

          “Greg,” Molly sighed, and threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging and directing him until his lips locked around her left nipple. He suckled and nipped and toyed with it, caressing with his tongue until Molly’s urgent movements and fervent grip caught his attention and he slipped a soothing down her side. Her skin was on fire, velvet and satin, irresistible. Greg brought his left hand up to cup and mold her right breast, and slowly slid his right hand down her side, feeling the faint outline of her ribs, the inward dip of her waist, the delicate flare of her hip. He wanted to delve straight between her legs but managed to control the impulse, instead redirecting his attention to the sensitive small of her back. At last he let his hand drop to the plump fullness of her bottom, squeezing appreciatively as he continued his assault on her nipple.

          She growled and gave a firm tug on his hair, and he hesitated and then slowly moved his hand to her sex, smiling against her breast as Molly moaned appreciatively and arched into his hand. Her cunt, close trimmed hair and pouting lips, was swollen, soaked, her thighs slick with the natural lubrication produced during Heat. Greg slipped his fingers between her nether lips and groaned aloud as he sank into her hot wet passage. Molly’s hands left his hair and clutched his shoulders, fingernails digging in sharply. She parted her legs and urged him on, hips moving as she rode his fingers. Her clit was tight and hard, and he added a second finger, turning his wrist to improve the angle, and rubbed harder.

          “More,” Molly bit out, biting his chest, “Harder, Greg, please.”

          Stiffening his fingers he rubbed rapidly, as she started moaning, crying out. She began to come apart, and her juices released, coating his hand, her thighs, and the smell almost brought him to his knees. As if she read his mind, Molly gave him a shove and Greg obligingly knelt in front of her, burrowing his face into her even as she continued to come.

          Close up the smell of her Heat and her release was overpowering, and he felt his mind step back as his Alpha shoved forward, jostling for control. With effort, he managed to retain his awareness enough to give a warning growl before he allowed his second nature to meld. Happily, he thumbed apart her lips, dragging his tongue the length of her cunt, swirling it around her clit. Molly was banging her head against the door and snarling, sounding as if her second nature was fighting against her self-mastery. Greg was drowning in her and loving it, face running with her juices even as she widened her stance and steadied herself by clutching his hair, hooking one leg over his shoulder.

          His hand went immediately to fondle and caress, even as his tongue lapped at her delicious body. Molly pressed against his face; ground her sex against his mouth, hands tangled in his hair. She was keening as her second orgasm approached, and Greg shifted, grunted, and then slung her other leg over his shoulder, holding her up with her arse in his hands, her back against the door. Her hands went over her head and clutched at the brass curtain rod as she rode his tongue. He heard an ominous creaking and hoped it held.

          Without warning she exploded on his tongue, flooding his mouth and swamping him in her scent and the powerful pheromones associated with an Omega’s Heat. Untouched, unbidden, his own orgasm slammed into him and Greg grunted helplessly into Molly’s sex as his cock pumped fruitlessly, spattering his belly and the floor.

          The suddenly silent room still rang with Molly’s hoarse shouts, and his animalistic grunts. Greg helped her lower her legs and slide down the door, standing shakily to lift her. “Bed?”

          Molly pointed, half swooned in his arms, and Greg strode the short distance in half the necessary steps, his stride long and purposeful. One bare foot kicked open the partially open bedroom door, which rebounded and smacked him in the elbow. He barely felt it.

          Molly’s bedroom was probably very nice, normal, clean, maybe dirty; Greg was focused on the bed and wouldn’t have noticed if there were holes in the wall and filth on the floor. He lowered her to the bed and angled himself over her.

          “No,” Molly pushed him back and his heart stalled. “I want to be on top,” she went on, and his heart resumed its deep, rapid thudding.

          Normally, during an Omega’s Heat, particularly during the first coupling, instinct guided the Omega to present themselves on hands and knees. Clearly Molly was no ordinary Omega. Greg’s prick, which had already begun rising following his release, rapidly reached maximum proportions, and he felt the hot, urgent slither of desire churning into the full-body grip of Rut. At his age he was well in control of himself, and wouldn’t turn into a ravaging animal, but a true Rut blurred the lines of self-control as ancient instinct took over. He wanted to flip Molly onto her belly and bury himself in her and fuck until his Knot swelled and he came inside her, bodies locked together.

          Shaking away the fog, Greg moved and allowed her to stand, then crawled up the bed to scrabble the pillows into a comfortable position which would allow him to recline and see her. Barely had he laid down when she was on her hands and knees, crawling up the bed toward him. He thought for a moment she was going to kiss him, but at the last moment she merely bit his lower lip and then gripped his shoulders as she settled with her legs on either side of his hips. Her proximity to his overeager erection caused Greg’s own hips to involuntarily rise, seeking the warm cave of her body.

          Molly smirked and pinched his nipple, “Wait. Are you clean?”

          His head thudded back against the pillow and Greg gripped her hips with cramping fingers, “Yes,” he managed, “I was tested after my last relationship.”

          “Good. Me too.” Molly lowered herself onto his dick, so slick and swollen and fluid that he entered her without pause and she sank all the way to the hilt, groaning. He cursed, hips jerking as he was enveloped in her molten core, nerves tingling.

          “Molly, fuck, _Molly_ ,” he groaned, head thrown back, neck straining as he tried to keep from pounding into her. He wanted to remain himself as long as possible; he would sink into his Alpha when the time was right but Greg still wanted these memories as himself when this was past and he was out in the cold.

          She gasped breathlessly, rolled her hips, gave a delighted laugh, “Oh God, Greg, you’re so…oh _gawd_ , you feel glorious.”

          “Took…the words…right out of my mouth,” Greg gasped, surging up again, carrying her slight weight with him. Molly dug her nails into his pecs and ground her hips against his pelvis, biting her lips. “Jesus, Molly, Jesus…ah, yes, sweetheart, yes.”

          The heat in the room was stifling, their overheated bodies generating their own atmosphere, and sweat was running freely. Greg tried to cede control to Molly, aware of her nails digging in warningly when he tried to take over, but is was bloody difficult. He had wanted her too long, this felt so good, she was so fucking breathtaking…

          “No,” Molly growled again, her Omega showing its fangs in warning. “Not yet.” Clamping down with her inner muscles, she put her hands on his belly and pressed him to be still. When he reluctantly stopped moving she purred in approval, and he preened at pleasing her. Unable to help himself, Greg released his scent, ratcheting up the tension in the room. Molly smiled slyly, “You’re determined to make me lose control, aren’t you? I’m afraid I’m not that easy, however. I don’t roll over for just anyone.”

          The image of her rolling over, submitting, presenting, accepting his Knot, accepting his Bond, was so powerful, bringing with it a rush of shame mingled with heartache, that Greg ignored her warning and grasped her small waist between his big hands and thrust into her, once and then again, before she twisted his nipple lightly in warning. No Omega had ever done that to him. He hated it. He loved it.

          “Not yet,” Molly reminded him, sounding distracted, lashes drifting down as her eyes slowly closed. “I’m not ready yet. I want this to last.” Her head tipped back, her tangled locks streaming down her back, the ends just brushing his thighs, a further tease, tantalizing him. Her creamy, exposed throat called to him; he could almost see what his Bond mark would look like on her skin. He would bite over the faint, silvery scar left by Tom’s Bond mark, obliterate it, erase his lingering presence, remove him from her mind and heart and body and replace it with his own.

          “Please,” Greg said unevenly, not quite begging. “God, Molly, please, please move.”

          Tipping her chin down, she smiled at him, looking mischievous, playful, sweet, as if the sight of him made her happy, as if his voice had filled her with delight. “I like hearing you say please.” She leaned over, breasts brushing lightly across his chest, hot breath on his lips, nearly kissing him, “If I refuse, will you beg?”

          _Never. Maybe. God, yes._ “Alphas don’t beg.”

          “What about _you_ , Greg, not your Alpha, but you? Would you beg if I wanted you to?” Molly’s direct gaze challenged him, and Greg felt wrong footed, uncertain what she was playing at. During a Heat it was always first and foremost Alpha and Omega. Not man and woman, or man and man, or woman and woman. It wasn’t supposed to be Greg and Molly, even though he was trying desperately to remain Greg as long as possible. But…but he could see Molly’s clear gaze, not the glazed look of an Omega falling under the spell of hormones and pheromones and Heat and Rut and more, more, more.

          “If I beg, will you let me stay?” Greg’s fingers tightened around her hips, his eyes didn’t leave hers, “Will you let me stay for the remainder of your Heat?”

          Her inner muscles tightened around him, causing a spasm of extreme pleasure that milked a thread of pre-cum out of him. “Beg me.”

          “Please, Molly,” Greg leaned up, stomach muscles burning, and licked her throat, kissed her jaw, tangled his fingers in her hair and nuzzled her shoulder, “Please, please, sweet Molly, you’re tormenting me. Release me, move, let me feel you move.” His voice cracked slightly, and his face burned with embarrassment, “Christ almighty, I’m begging you!”

          “Ahhh,” Molly groaned and he was amazed to feel her convulse around him, a tiny orgasm gripping her, her passage impossibly tight around him, nearly sending him over the edge. With difficulty he managed to keep from coming. He felt the warning tingle in his cock as the glands controlling his Knot began to react. Greg cursed silently and fluently, desperate to maintain control. Molly shivered and opened her eyes, looking dazed. “Greg…”

          He heard the unspoken surrender in her voice and his inner Alpha roared in satisfaction as he flipped them and pinned her to the mattress, bracing his hands on either side of her face as he began to surge in and out of her. Molly’s legs locked around his waist and she moved against him, with him, chasing the perfect rhythm until they suddenly found it and she whimpered, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing desperately at his jaw, licking his ear, whispering filthy nonsense that increased his inner fire.

          _Mine_ , he thought, grazing her collar bone with his teeth, aware enough that he didn’t sink his teeth into her neck, although the urge was almost too much, _mine. Mine. Mine_. Even with his ex he hadn’t felt this desperation, this desire to claim without thought, to take only because instinct demanded it. Her smell was driving him wild, the sensation of sinking again and again into her perfect, willing body, the hot grip of her cunt, the slick wash of lubricant easing his way, her keening cries, her scrabbling nails on his back, all of it too much, pushing at him. Eating away at his much vaunted self-control.

          Greg had heard about this. Whispers, rumors, myth. Unfounded old stories that there were such things as true-Bond mates, perfect soul mates, destined to be together. The pleasure, the passion and desire to be together were supposed to be overwhelming, a tidal wave of instinct taking over everything else.

          Molly was babbling now, urging him on, begging him to fill her, to Knot. “Fuck, yes! Greg, now, Knot me… _please_!” With the last of his strength, Greg slammed his hips into hers, tipping her into climax, and as she jerked and writhed beneath him his Knot expanded, swelling almost painfully, a thin edge of pleasure-pain that he rode deliriously as she milked his body, his huge Alpha cock pumping her full of cum. Barely aware of what he was doing, Greg turned his head and sank his teeth into his own arm, dimly grateful that Alphas no longer had true fangs as they were once rumored to have done.

          Shuddering and crying, Molly came again, hands clutching at the sheets, tremors wracking her frame as they remained locked together. Every subsequent time she came, Greg’s own orgasm was triggered, releasing another wave of ejaculate. It was nature’s way of ensuring the best chance for pregnancy, and if not for the powerful birth control measures provided by modern science, Molly would not doubt already be breeding. Shaking off a faint, instinctive sense of loss that his child was not already taking root in her belly, Greg carefully rolled them onto their sides and they arranged themselves as best they could.

          Typically the Knot lasted for ten to twenty minutes, and until such time as it went down, they were locked together. He prepared for awkwardness, now that the urgency had passed. Normally, Heat and Rut overrode embarrassment and shame, but Molly was clearly a force to be reckoned with and Greg would not have been surprised to find that Molly was clear headed enough to burst into tears or sulk or treat him with icy disdain.

          He was not expecting her to yawn prettily and snuggle into his arms. “Mmm, that was _lovely_ , Greg. I need a nap. I’ll wake you when I’m ready again.” Stunned, pleased and slightly off-center, Greg cautiously looped his arms around her and listened to her breathing deepen as she slid into slumber. Once his Knot had subsided, it was his job as her Alpha—no, as _the_ Alpha—to make sure his mate—make sure _Molly_ —was rested, clean and fed. He would make sure there was food and water in the house, although Molly was no doubt prepared, and he would locate clean bedding so that he could remake the bed when she awoke. In the meantime…well, in the meantime he was going to hold her tight and hope.

 

******

 

          Molly gave a tiny, soft squeal as she stretched, barely awake, but deliciously aware of the ache, the lassitude. Her nap had refreshed her, but she needed food and water, to prepare for the next surge. Typically an Omega’s Heat would last for three days, with spikes in heat approximately every three or four hours. The down time was spent resting, eating and drinking. Alphas, rutting done, were to attend their mate, ensuring protection, comfort and nurturing. It had been three years since Molly’s last Heat, which had taken place during her engagement to Tom; since then she had been using suppressants. She had almost forgotten the urgency, the drive, the mindless need to fuck and fuck and fuck.

          The few times she was off suppressants and not in a relationship, Molly had taken care of her Heat with very expensive, well designed but ultimately lackluster toys. The down times had been spent unenthusiastically showering, changing her bedding and forcing herself to eat shelf-stable food and drink the bottles of water she would store next to her bed.

          She wondered how Greg would be as an Alpha mate. Some Alpha, particularly men, were distant and reserved, providing the basics but with no sense of caring. It was hard to picture Greg as one of _those_ Alpha, but you never really knew someone until you spent a Heat with them. She’d learned that the hard way.

          Shaking off thoughts of Tom, Molly rolled to sit up and grimaced, aware of her sticky, sweaty skin, tangled hair and growling belly. First, however, she needed desperately to urinate, and her mouth was tacky with dehydration. Like a blessing, she saw a tall bottle of water on the bedside table. Half in and half out of the bed, she cracked it open and guzzled half of it in one go, desperate for liquid, begrudging the trickles that escaped and ran down her face, but grateful for the cool refreshment on her skin.

          “Hey, you’re awake,” Greg stuck his head in the room and smiled softly, “Did you have a good sleep?”

          “I did,” Molly assured him a bit hoarsely, throat scratchy from screaming. She thought about some of those things she had screamed out in the midst of her Heat and blushed.

          Greg went a bit hot around the cheekbones in response, as if he could guess at her thoughts, but a teasing grin tugged up the corners of his mouth, and Molly couldn’t help but smile in response. _Oh God_ , she groaned inwardly, _why did I agree to share my Heat with Greg Lestrade of all people? I’m never going to be able to forget this_. The thought saddened her, and something of her thoughts must have translated to sheer emotion, because even without a Bond, Greg whined softly at her distress, scenting it on the air. In a second he was at her side, enfolding her in his arms. Molly didn’t want to feel coddled, safe, secure, but she did. Closing her eyes, she breathed in his intoxicating smell: coffee, tobacco, ink, flannel and soap, his Alpha scent a trickle of pure pheromone-rich deliciousness underlying it all.

          She wanted to burrow into him, crawl onto his lap, latch onto him, cling, hold, refuse to release him until he gave her his Bond-mark and took her own in return. But he wasn’t hers, he was never and _would never_ be hers and Molly had learned at this point in her life—far too late, her friends assured her—to be practical. She didn’t live in a dream world of happy fantasies any longer. _Right_.

          Sitting up abruptly, too abruptly, if Greg’s look of surprise and automatic objection were any indication, Molly sprang off the bed, feeling hot and itchy. And it had nothing to do with her need for a shower, but she pretended it did. And despite his look of concern, Greg attended her, fussing to make sure the water was the perfect temperature, shaking in Epsom salts, piling up too many towels on the warming rack.

          Molly bit her lip and shifted from foot to foot, needing the loo quite desperately but she was certainly not going to use it with a witness. After a moment Greg seemed to realize she might need privacy and stuttered his way out of the room, shutting the door. Molly peed quickly and washed her hands, then eased into the tub, hissing at the delicious sting of the water. Her privates were a tiny bit sore, but nature had made allowances for her Omega status and her natural lubricants and the swelling of her genitals during Heat ensured that she could take a far more lengthy and brutal fucking than an Alpha or a Beta.

          Leaning back and adjusting a towel behind her head for a pillow, Molly drifted pleasantly, refusing to dwell on Greg or the future. After a few minutes he returned, knocking lightly on the door and upon her bidding him, he entered, carrying a frosty glass of lemonade which Molly instantly reached for with a greedy, “Gimme!”

          He laughed indulgently and set it on the side of the bathtub, and took a seat on the closed lid of the toilet. “Is it alright if I stay with you?” His voice was so tender, his eyes so gentle! Molly gritted her teeth and reminded herself that it was instinct, not genuine emotion. Although as her friend he probably did care for her more than a stranger would. Not that it necessarily made any difference. She thought of Tom briefly before her mind glanced away from the subject.

          “If you want,” Molly said as coolly as possible, which she realized too late might be a bit frostier than intended when Greg looked wounded. “I’d like that,” she said with more warmth, and watched his smile bloom.

          She was edgier than she had ever been in a shared Heat, aware that his presence here would forever alter their working relationship and the somewhat tentative friendship they carefully maintained. Molly kept waiting for him to express disgust at her less-than-stellar ways, her independence, her un-Omega-like bossiness. It was probably only the strength of his Rut that had blinded him to her inadequacies. If he stayed, mere exposure alone would cause him to run. _Familiarity breeds contempt_.

          Gripping her glass tightly, Molly vowed to herself that this time she would be different, softer. Submit. Flirt. Do all the humiliating, needy, ridiculous things that Omegas were supposed to do; those habits and actions that were supposedly ingrained in the very nature of an Omega, not hammered into her head by her mother and grandad and by every damned Omega magazine, even the supposedly enlightened ones for the modern Omega. Having had a taste of sharing a Heat with Greg Lestrade, she was loathe to let him go; so if it took humiliating herself to keep him here, at least for the next few days…

          “May I wash your hair?” Greg asked, running his hand over her tangles, and cupping the back of her skull in his big hand. Molly looked up at him through her lashes, channeling the light-hearted, sweet and simpering mannerisms of her younger sister, Charlotte, the perfect Omega.

          “Oh, please,” she breathed, casting her eyes down, damning herself for a fool.

          Greg snorted and leaned over until she looked at him, uncertain. “What, or rather, _who_ was that supposed to be?”

          “I—what?”

          “It for damn sure wasn’t you.” Greg said, raising a challenging brow, “You might be a little shy with new people but you’ve never acted like some air-headed Omega from the daytime soaps.”

          Molly was unreasonably annoyed. How dare he notice her un-Molly-like behavior and call her on it? He was supposed to be flattered and appeased and toddle off happy as a lark that she was normal. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

          “Bollocks,” he disagreed cheerfully, standing to unhook the flexible shower head and fiddling with it until he had a slow stream of warm water which he began to slowly direct over her hair. Molly, who loved to have her hair messed with, nearly purred. “You had me on my knees, you were directing my mouth, holding me down, dominating my Alpha and wouldn’t let me Knot without your say so.”

          God, it sounded worse said out loud! What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be like everyone else?

          “It was fucking amazing,” Greg suddenly breathed in her ear, one hand steadily wetting her air with the shower head, the other cradling her jaw and tipping her face toward him as if they would kiss. They hadn’t kissed, not yet, not properly, and she ached to close the distance, but she had a rein on herself now and was sitting still, letting him make the moves. “Brilliant,” he complimented, breath ghosting over her lips, which suddenly seemed to almost vibrate with need. “The hottest thing I’ve ever experienced,” Greg continued, lashes half-mast over his gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes, lips a millimeter away from hers. “Oh,” he breathed beseechingly, “mistress, won’t you please permit a kiss?”

          Molly choked back a swell of emotion and leaned back into her pillow, arranging her arms on either side of the bathtub and smiled up at him, feeling confident, in control and suddenly so happy she could have flown. “I was under the impression you were washing my hair…finish and I may reward you.”

          His eyes gleamed, a cheeky smile flickering around his mouth, and Molly wanted to laugh. He wasn’t disgusted or insulted, Greg was confident, strong; man and Alpha enough to let her take the lead and have a sense of humor about it. Refusing to smile, Molly held his gaze until he grinned and resumed washing her hair. Once he was done and had slicked it through with conditioner and then rinsed, Molly let him help her stand and accepted as her queenly due his ministrations in drying her. The apartment was warm, and her Heat provided a higher than normal body temperature, so Molly remained nude, confident enough to move normally without any clothes.

          Once her Heat had passed, Molly would have been rather mortified at walking naked around the flat in front of someone she was going to have to maintain a professional working relationship with come Monday, but for now she enjoyed the exposed skin which was being lapped by the flow of air, and the way Greg could barely keep his eyes off of her.

          He had prepared lunch, although it was late enough that it was really an early dinner, and he was endearingly anxious to please. Molly had never had an Alpha behave so, although she had heard that there were Alphas who fawned on their mate, lavishing them with love and care, barely letting them lift a finger during their Heat. _Not your Alpha_ , she reminded herself forcefully, when her thoughts had drifted to the future; there was no mileage in envisioning spending Heats with him in the future. This was a one-time arrangement.

          Their hunger sated, Molly brushed her hair while Greg tidied the kitchen, then they retired to the bedroom. The bed was neatly made with fresh sheets and pillowcases, and Greg had even found a lighter and lit the fat, three-wick candles on her dresser. He paused, rubbing the back of his neck, “I hope you don’t mind, I just thought…”

          He didn’t finish his thought, and Molly didn’t challenge him, merely shaking her head mutely, touched and saddened at the aura of romance the candles added. Her skin was starting to itch, her body temperature rising, and as she felt the first trickle of Slick on her inner thighs, Molly shook off her melancholy and gave him a speaking look. Greg was gratifyingly eager to approach, sliding his hands into her hair and holding her close to him, “May I kiss you now?”

          Folly. Such folly to allow. As if she had a choice! Molly burned to know the touch of Greg’s mouth on hers and she nodded, swallowing a sigh when he finally kissed her. Mm, soft, slow nibbles of her bitten lower lip, sweet sweeps of his tongue over her teeth, the slow, delicious plunder of her mouth with his tongue. Unbidden, her knees buckled, and she tumbled toward the bed, a controlled fall in his arms, as Greg lowered himself along with her.

          The delightful press of his big, muscled, hot body against hers; the heavy throb of his erection on her leg; the rasp of his lightly furred chest on her breasts, it was almost too much. Molly wanted to swoon, wanted, for once, to let go, to just be, to let her Heat swamp her, take her under, chew her up and toss her up to the heights.

          “Let go,” Greg whispered, kissing her so deeply she foolishly thought she felt it in her soul. “I have you, Molly.”

          There it went, the high-whining agitation of her mind, the pressure to remain in control, the fear of her base nature. _Greg has me_ , she thought hazily, sinking into the mattress, sinking into his embrace, sinking into her Heat.

          Part of her tried to rebel, to drag her back to awareness, but Molly hung quivering on the brink for a moment and then voluntarily slid into the pool of sensation, letting go for the first time in her life. Gasping as if she were going to drown, Molly felt the buoyancy as Greg’s Alpha stepped forward, his Rut melding with her Heat in a perfect symphony, as nature had intended. _Why did I fight this? This is glorious_.

          _You never felt this_ , a small, clear voice pointed out pertly; _it’s why you always fought it, before, with the others. This was it, this is it, what you’ve been scared of and seeking and avoiding since your first Heat_.

          “Idiot,” Molly sighed.

          Greg laughed, and placed a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth, then ducked his head to lap at her nipples, his clever, clever hands, so big and hot and wonderful, coasting down her body, setting her nerve endings alight. Her Omega stretched, suddenly free, feline and powerful, let off the leash for the first time ever. His teasing voice ghosted over the shell of her ear, “Aw, thanks, Molly…I’m fond of you, too.”

          Mmmmm, she agreed, unsure if she spoke aloud or not. Her thoughts scattered on the wind as he lowered his mouth to her sex, licking her thighs, her labia, cleaning her of excess lubricant, nuzzling her with his nose. Molly whimpered and sank her fingers into his hair, his wonderful, beautiful, amazing silver hair. It was alive, electric, clinging to her fingers, tangling her with him. Dimly she was aware of Greg settling in, hitching her legs over his shoulders. A particularly clever and deep drag of his tongue sent her back arching off the bed and her heels dug in his back. He growled approvingly, and she heard the deeper, primal echo of his Alpha.

          Unable to stop moving, Molly rolled her hips, riding his tongue, whimpering and moaning, one hand in his hair, the other frantically plucking at her aching nipples as she came again and again. Multiple orgasms for an Omega in Heat were legendary, supposed to be the most vital, overwhelming feeling one could ever experience aside from Bonding; Molly had never experienced them until now, heretofore all her orgasms in Heat, multiple or otherwise, were wonderful, but not earthshattering. These…they were unlike anything she had previously felt, crashing over her again and again, so overwhelming it was terrifying until she gave up her urge to rebel and let sensation take her.

          _I don’t understand what’s happening_ , she thought with a far off feeling of panic. Her Omega rose up, smothering her worry and Molly relaxed, coming one final time, almost gently and slowly, as Greg kissed his way back up her body. He claimed her mouth and she squealed into his kiss, biting his lip and tasting blood. “You’re so fucking delectable,” Greg growled, nudging his head under her jaw, kissing his way down her throat. Unthinking, she bared it to him, head back, neck arched toward him, her Omega begging him to take her, mark her, Bond. _Bond nownownow_. “Christ, I could eat you out for hours. But you’re hungry for more, aren’t you, baby?”

          “Yes,” Molly keened, sad because he was moving away from her throat. “Please, Greg, oh God, please, fill me, fill me.” She was moaning and he shushed her and then he was filling her, all tight, stretched heat and burn and glorious pressure and Molly bucked against him and Greg started moving, harder and faster than the first time. She bit and clawed, feeling wild and out of control, which should have scared her, _did_ scare her a tiny bit, but it was indescribably wonderful and she kept coming and coming, sobbing and screaming and Greg was sweating over her, grunting like an animal, and fucking her so hard the headboard was booming as it hit the wall.

          “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Molly couldn’t manage more than that as Greg hooked her behind the knees, changed the angle and plowed her into the bed, fucking her into the mattress. She felt the gush of lubricant and her release, her inner passage clenching and releasing around his cock and she came again, screaming for him to Knot her and felt the pleasure-pain as his Knot enlarged, locking him inside her, although he continued to thrust shallowly, coughing out a sobbing chant of her name as he came in one long, continuous stream, filling her. Impossibly she came again, and felt him shudder as he came once more. She could feel the impossible fullness of her womb, overflowing with his seed, and felt a dizzy desire to breed, to bear Greg’s child, to give him lots and lots of offspring.

          _Mine_ , Molly thought fiercely, love and fear and shame and a whole-body happiness warring within her. _Mine, mine, mine_.

 

******

 

_Two weeks later…_

          “It was a double suicide,” Sherlock drawled, in an impossibly bored voice, edged with annoyance, as if Greg were directly responsible for his ennui. “The girl’s mother found them and destroyed the note, put the pill bottle in the other one’s hand and staged it to look like a murder suicide.”

          “Why?” Greg asked blankly, not really expecting an answer, just fucking appalled, once more, at what people were capable of.

          “She was ashamed that her Alpha daughter was in love with a fellow Alpha and didn’t want anyone to know about it. It’s not the done thing, two alphas in love.” Sherlock sank even further into the depths of his chair, chin squashed onto his dressing gown clad chest. “Boring! Bring me something worthwhile, Lestrade!” he hissed his displeasure, and Greg rolled his eyes as he stood and looked down at the younger man, whose neck, by rights, should have been broken from the impossible angle at which he had contorted himself.

          His face was petulant with temper and Greg wondered for the millionth time how John put up with him. No one should have been able to cohabitate with the irate Alpha, much less another un-Bonded Alpha. But John and Sherlock were a law unto themselves. It was a good thing John’s daughter Rosie was a Beta. They needed a calming influence in their lives with John’s dead mate Mary, gone. She had been a Beta and a peacekeeping influence. Well, sort of peacekeeping. Sometimes she had been just as bad as “her boys.”

          “Sorry, Sherlock, but I can’t produce murders out of thin air.” Greg slapped the file against his leg, hesitating, “Thanks for this.”

          Sherlock grunted. Greg wavered but then turned and headed for the door, “Tell John I’m sorry to have missed him. Haven’t seen him much lately.” He slowly shrugged into his coat, buying time by searching for his gloves, which he was aware were in his inner coat pocket. “See you at Bart’s, yeah? For the Collins PM.”

          “Oh?” Sherlock queried, and Greg wanted to flinch at the arch sound of his voice, “Will you be returning to the morgue? I would have thought the sheer awkwardness of encountering Molly Hooper sans Heat would have caused you to send Donovan in your stead.”

          “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Greg said, realizing even as he spoke that he had given the game away. “We went into it with the understanding that it was a one-time thing.” _I’m the one who wants more_ , he thought, squeezing his balled up gloves in his hands, _I’m the one who can’t stop thinking about her, can’t help but wish things could be different._ “Why did you send me over there?” He hadn’t known he was going to ask it until the words were already out of his mouth.

          Sherlock spared him a glance, “It was my good dead for the decade. I thought it was past time the two of you stopped mooning around and did something about your mutual attraction.”

          Greg _wished_ it were mutual. “It wasn’t…Molly doesn’t—about me…”

          A pained groan cut him off, “Dear Lord, you are so tiresome, Gavin! Are you not capable of finishing a single thought?”

          “Piss off,” he retorted, annoyed, “I wasn’t mooning, and even if I was, it was my business. You, you threw me in Molly’s path when she was vulnerable, and now, fuck, now it’s _weird_ and awkward and she’s avoiding me.” He ran hectic hands through his hair, “I was okay with just being her friend, really I was. But then, then her Heat happened and now she’s all I can think about and I want her, _her_ , not her Heat, just her. Only it’s impossible, innit? She made it clear I was there to service her and it wasn’t ever—she’s not going to let me near her—I— fuck!” He slammed his hand into the heavy oak door of the flat and cursed roundly, shaking his stunned hand.

          “You are so blind, I do not know how you navigate your way to the toilet, much less have advanced through the ranks to Detective Inspector,” Sherlock sneered, but with little heat. Greg was familiar enough with his moods to know that the other man didn’t mean it. Well, not entirely. “Think who you are speaking to, Lestrade. If I tell you that you were _both_ mooning, _then you were both mooning_.”

          “I…really?” His heart was racing at the thought. Greg had spent the last two weeks feeling empty, aware that he had found his true-Bond, his mate, the other half of his soul, that thing they talked about in legends and stories from olden days. The loss of her was emotionally crippling, and he had been walking about in a miserable fog.

          “ _Yes_. _Go_.” Sherlock softened his voice slightly, “Claim her.”

 

******

 

          Anytime in the past, following a Heat, if she had been alone, Molly was always cognizant of a sense of unfulfilled need and a drooping of energy. Her mum insisted it was because she was an Omega and meant to mate with an Alpha, not fiddle about with toys. But then, her mum was a rather rigidly old-fashioned Alpha and she didn’t hold with modern nonsense like suppressants and toys and independence. Molly sharply missed her father at moments like this. He had been gentle and funny and understanding, but above all he had been an Omega and there was so much he could have explained and shared and counseled her on.

          He had died when she was thirteen, three years before her first Heat, and before he ever took the chance to sit her down and explain her nature fully to her. Biology class and sex education courses were all well and good, but they didn’t take the place of a real heart to heart with a loving Omega family member, and they couldn’t take your panicked phone call when you woke up crying for the third day in a row.

          Following her few Heats with an Alpha in the past, Molly had been left with a sense of inadequacy, anger and the ephemeral idea that she was getting it all wrong. She knew very well that a good deal of it was her fault, because she fought so hard against nature. When she presented as an Omega she had screamed and raged and fought and sulked and finally accepted the inevitable with poor grace. It wasn’t hard to see, even with all the improvements in rights for Omegas, whose side the bread was buttered on. Molly didn’t quite feel like a proper Omega, in her heart of hearts. She was kind and polite, a bit shy with strangers, but being told what to do made her hackles raise, and she rarely submitted to an Alpha trying to dominate except on the surface, for appearances.

          In the end it was mostly that she didn’t feel like the kind of Omega everyone else thought she should be. She wanted to be Molly first, and Omega second, and she wanted to be her own kind of Omega, on her own terms.

          Tom…Tom, she had at first thought might have been the perfect mate for her. He looked a bit like Sherlock, whom she had once had a long-suffering crush on, and he was surprisingly reserved and kind for an Alpha. He courted her, flattering, delightful courting and Molly had been eager to find someone to fit with. They were engaged in rapid order and despite some misgivings, which she firmly squashed down, Molly had submitted and taken his Bond-mark.

          It was a terrible decision. She went off the suppressants and prepared with shaky anticipation and an underlying anxiety for her Heat. Tom was exultant, he had never liked that she was on suppressants, although he understood why she wished to skip them if only for the convenience to her job.

          Engaged, Bonded, really quite a cute couple, everyone had agreed. It should have been perfect. Never mind that Molly’s crush on Sherlock had died a natural death and been replaced by an inappropriate desire for the still-married DI Lestrade. Tired of wasting her life on men who weren’t available, Molly had locked away her feelings for Greg and accepted Tom’s suite. Less than four months later she had watched in stunned disbelief as Greg finally left his unfaithful mate and filed for divorce. Still reeling from how closely she had missed her opportunity, Molly nonetheless went through with plans for her first Heat with Tom. Her intended husband. Her new Bond mate.

          Disastrous. Thinking about it even now, three years later, Molly would feel queasy, her stomach flipping as she recalled how Tom tried to turn her on her hands and knees, how he tried to exert his Bond over her when she objected, how she had writhed with need even as she locked him out of the bedroom. His hammering fists on the door, yelling at her for being unnatural, wrong, ruined.

          Molly had sworn off men, decided to remain on suppressants and applied herself to her career, determined not to give in to biology ever again. There was something wrong with her and she was tired of fighting it and there wasn’t ever going to be anyone who understood her, accepted her, wanted her as she was. Knowing it didn’t make the feelings of inadequacy any better, but there was a certain comfort in her fatalistic approach.

          And then there was Greg.

          He had come at the worst time (or possibly the best) and even knowing it was a mistake from the moment she went to the door, Molly had given in to the inevitable. She wanted him. Not just for the relief of sharing her Heat, not for his Alpha-ness, but because he was Greg, lovely, sweet, funny, sexy Greg, whom she had been crushing on for five years and whom she wanted, deeply.

          Being without him now that she had glimpsed what perfection was, what kind of mating was possible when you trusted someone and let go and reveled in your nature, it was awful. Terrible and painful and depressing and Molly had to force herself out of bed each day and into some semblance of her normal self. Despite how really, really excellently good the fire between them was, Molly knew rationally that this would pass and eventually she would be over him, or if not over, then calloused enough to keep on alone. But for now the hurt and longing and need had her walking around in a fog of depression.

          Overcompensating, she knew she had been an utter bitch the few time circumstances had thrown them together in the last two weeks. She saw it on his face and wanted to apologize. But talking about it would just make everything more awkward and Molly was feeling too fragile to open her wounds and try to smile.

          So instead she was in turns snappish and morose, focusing feverishly on work, and taking files home with her to sit listlessly over her research until late in the night, when finally she was so exhausted she could sleep. Today she had woken up tired of the swamp of negative emotions she was in and determined to behave naturally, to smile with remote friendliness when she saw him. Thankfully today he wasn’t due in, although the following morning she was performing the PM on Mr. Collins and Greg was scheduled to attend. Along with Sherlock, whom Molly knew would be able to instantly deduce everything that had happened between her and Greg, and would no doubt be able to instantly see every messed up moment of her past, every flaw in her nature, and all the lovesick yearning she was trying to suppress.

          Being Sherlock, he would probably make some very unwelcome deduction just at the worst possible moment.

          The day passed rather quickly, too full of work and demands on her time, and Molly was grateful for every moment. Her beloved cat, Toby, had died several months before and her flat was achingly lonely to come home to. She wasn’t quite ready for another pet, but perhaps she should reconsider. It would be nice to have something warm to cling to when she was feeling down.

          Having worked so diligently all day, and skipping lunch and her coffee break as well, ensured Molly an early departure. Numbly, she rode the Tube home, and let herself in, hanging up her outer things and her purse, and toeing off her shoes; time for a long, hot shower and to slip into her comfiest jim-jams and then watch mindless programming while she indulged in a dinner of wine and ice cream right out of the carton.

          Pink from her shower, Molly dried off and applied lotion, then slipped into an oversized Minnie Mouse top and a pair of knee high socks and fleece leggings. Winding the towel around her damp hair, she shuffled into the kitchen and pulled out a wine glass and her top of the line corkscrew. She had just removed the cork, savoring the welcome sound of the familiar pop when there was a knock at her door.

          Stupidly, her heart leapt and her first thought was of Greg. As if he would show up at her door at this time of the evening, uninvited, unannounced. Never mind that he had done just that a mere two weeks before. Setting down the bottle, Molly crossed to the door and peeked out of the window, jerking in shock.

          Double damn! It _was_ Greg. Looking tired and gorgeous and hopeful.

          “Open up, Molls…please.” His voice wasn’t loud, but Molly could hear him clearly, feel every nuance. He _was_ tired, and he _was_ hopeful, but she could almost smell the anxiety on him. She wanted to open up and invite him in, put her arms around him and snap and growl at anyone who tried to interfere. Instinct and want were urging her to comfort him.

          Deep, deep breath, plaster on a friendly—but not too friendly!—smile and open the door. At the last minute she recalled the towel on her head and jerked it off, hissing as strands of her hair caught and pulled. Tossing the damp towel over the back of a nearby chair, Molly hoped her hair didn’t look too Medusa like.

          “Greg. Hi.” Brilliant.

          His anxiety dropped slightly, and a smile spread on his face, “Molly.” They stood silently for a long moment, staring at one another.

          Well at least he was equally at a loss.

          “Can I? Is it alright if I come in?”

          “Of course.” Not really, but she saw that saying no would hurt him and do no good. Maybe it was best to just listen to what he had to say, here in the privacy of her home and then see him on his way so she could have a breakdown. _Stop it_ , Molly lectured, annoyed at how wimpy she was being. She was never this needy and clingy. It didn’t seem to matter; Greg was not like other men, other Alphas, and she felt about him like she did no one else. Molly remembered her surrender to her nature during their second joining, the incredible freedom and joy and the truly spectacular sex and went brick red.

          They perched awkwardly on either end of her sofa, and Molly wavered over whether or not to cross her arms. She felt exposed and defenseless, but didn’t want to come across as hostile. She settled for clasping her hands primly on her knees. Greg rubbed his big hands—oh God, those hands, how incredible they had felt on her body—nervously over his trouser clad knees, squeezed them together, absently popping his knuckles. “So, uh, Molly…I.” Greg paused, laughed nervously, “Jesus, I told myself not to be an awkward cunt when I got here, but I’m so nervous I feel like throwing up or punching something.”

          Squeezing her eyes shut, Molly sucked in a quick, bracing breath and spoke rapidly, “Look, Greg, it’s okay. You didn’t have to come here. We agreed it was just the one time and I’m sorry, I’m so incredibly sorry that I tried to—that I wanted to make it mo—I know I’ve been a bitch lately, and I’ll stop. It can go back to the way it was before.”

          “I don’t want it to,” Greg jumped in hastily when she stopped to breathe. Molly jerked and then stilled, unwilling to remain and hear him tell her their delicate high-wire act of friendship outside work was over and done with, but pride forcing her to stay in her seat. “I can’t…Molly, I know I agreed it was just the one time, and I knew it was stupid at the time, but I wanted you so badly—I’ve wanted you so badly for years…” he trailed off, looking miserable and embarrassed and frustrated as hell, “I was going to give you your space, no matter how fucking depressed it made me, but Sherlock said, Sherlock said—”

          “What did Sherlock say?” Molly asked gently, perched on the edge of her seat, vibrating with tension.

          “He said I was mooning over you, but it was okay because you were mooning too.” Greg pinched the bridge of his nose, not looking at her. “He knew, he saw how I felt and he set me up, he sent me running over here when your Heat was upon you, knowing what would happen.”

          “That fucking manipulative genius,” Molly breathed and flopped back on the sofa, relaxing for the first time in weeks. She felt a giggle threaten and let it loose, smiling at the ceiling. Feeling Greg’s eyes on her, Molly rolled her head toward him and smiled, full of a terrifying happiness. His answering smile warmed her and without second guessing herself Molly leaned in to his kiss. Even without Heat, it was still perfect, and with a questioning growl, he pulled her closer and half on top of him as he leaned back into the extremely comfortable embrace of her sofa.

          Molly hooked a leg over his, her knee brushing against his arousal. She was aware of her own desire, but this present moment felt so wonderful that she didn’t want it to end. He must have felt the same, because Greg didn’t try to push for more. Languidly he kissed her, one hand rising to pet lightly at her still-wet hair, rubbing the strands softly between his fingers.

          “God, Molly,” He finally parted their lips to groan, “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do this. So long…so many years I’ve been trying to pretend I didn’t want you. I missed my window of opportunity by a few months. I finally accepted that Joyce and I weren’t going to be able to overcome our differences, that I couldn’t ignore her affair, and I filed for divorce.” His mesmerizing dark eyes were honest, holding her gaze, “I’d noticed you, felt the attraction, but you were a work colleague, younger than me, hung up on Sherlock and I was married.”

          Molly made a tiny noise of distress, thinking of her humiliating infatuation with Sherlock. Greg smoothed her cheek with his hand, brushed his thumb over her lips. “I was too late, there you were, announcing your engagement to Tom and I had to congratulate you, smile like I wasn’t kicking myself for hanging on to a dying marriage for too long.”

          She told him, told him how she had felt about him, her determination to move on, not to spend more years of her life pining for another unavailable man. How she had rushed into the engagement, the Bonding, ignored her instincts. Molly even haltingly shared with Greg the unmitigated shit-show that had been her Heat with Tom, and how he had rejected her nature.

          “Fucking idiot,” Greg swore, “That stupid, brainless prick. He wasn’t man nor Alpha enough for the glory that is Molly Hooper.” He pressed his forehead to hers, dropped his voice to a whisper, “You don’t _ever_ have to hide yourself from me, Molly. I think—I _know_ —you are amazing. A goddess. You’re everything I want and need and being with you was indescribable.” He gave her a lopsided smile, “I’ve never known it to be like that before, with anyone, Heat or not. I’ll be happy to submit to you, to rule as equals.” Greg kissed her again, searing hot and filthy and left her gasping. “You can be my queen and I’ll be your champion and we can make our own rules.”

          Too soon, it was foolishly too soon to even talk like that, but Molly knew in her heart that Greg spoke the truth. They had between them something amazing and best of all they had years of friendship, respect, admiration and affection to build their attraction on. She wanted him, Greg, as herself. Molly wanted Greg, and she wanted his Alpha, and her Omega wanted him, all of him.

          “We must be mad,” Molly teased, licking delicately at the corner of his mouth, parting her lips for his questing finger. She savored the salt and heat of his skin, flicking the tip of his finger with her tongue and watching as his eyes grew darker with desire. “I felt mad, during,” she went pink, “during the second time. I—I’ve never felt like that, so out of control, yet it was perfect, I wasn’t scared or worried or thinking of the repercussions. I’ve always…I’ve never been able to surrender to my nature fully, I fought it from the beginning.”

          “You don’t have to fight it with me,” Greg promised, dragging his saliva-slicked finger across her bottom lip, “Not your desire or your will or your nature. You are in control, don’t you know that? Surrendering to your nature is what you’re supposed to do. Omegas aren’t weak, Molly, their Heat is a prize they award to some dumb, lucky, rutting Alpha. They control the mating, they say yes or no, they accept or deny. If an Alpha is lucky, worthy, they are accepted as Bond-mate and it is their duty and privilege and honor to provide anything their Omega needs, not because the Omega can’t take care of themselves, but because they _want_ to cherish them.”

          Molly hid her tears by pressing her face to his neck, biting her lip to hold back a sob. Was this what her beloved dad would have told her if he had still been alive when she first presented? Would he have explained that she held the power, that her will reigned supreme during Heat and that being an Omega was part of who she was, and to let go wasn’t a betrayal of self but an acceptance of her privilege?

          Greg was shushing her and hugging and petting, kissing her hair and as much of her cheek as he could reach, and Molly laughed wetly. Pulling back, she smiled at him, Greg, her Alpha, her perfect mate. “I want to take you to bed, so badly, but, silly as it sounds after sharing a Heat, I—I feel like we should, well, date first.”

          Sinking dramatically into the sofa, Greg pretended to expire from disappointment, and Molly laughed outright, punching him lightly in the ribs. He caught her fist and brought it to his mouth, smiling, pressing soft kisses to each knuckle. “I don’t disagree, and of course, anything my Molly wants, she must have.” His left eyebrow rose wickedly and he leaned in close, “But you won’t mind if I use my manly wiles to try and change your mind, do you?” He waggled his eyebrows, “I’ll beg filthily if I have to.” He straightened her fingers, nibbled on the end of her index finger, circled the tip with his tongue, “Dirty tactics and all.”

          Breathless with happiness, Molly watched as he began kissing his way down her hand to her wrist, “I look forward to the wooing.”

 

******

 

_Six weeks later…_

          “Christ,” Greg was breathing like a bellows, sweat dripping from his face, “I can’t believe we managed to hold off this long.” Despite the truly excellent feeling of his cock inside her, the enticing roll and sway of her hips, he had to fight off urgency. He really wanted to get to the part where they exchanged their Bond.

          Their relationship had been all over the map: colleagues, friends, crushes, shared Heat, dating, now finally!finally!finally! sex and barely two months after their first intimate encounter they were going to Bond. It would have seemed like a stupid move for anyone else, something he would have cautioned his sister’s kids about; but it was Molly, and he knew her, really knew her. They had spent the last month and a half together as much as possible, laughing and flirting and sharing their pasts, their fears, their hopes and strengthening the bond that was theirs even before they made it official.

          _Soul mates_ , Greg thought again, looking up at her ecstatic face as she scooped her hair out of the way and undulated her hips, driving him mad.

          There were times when you just _knew_.

          Besides, as Molly had pointed out with practicality when he raised the idea that they might be moving too fast, they had known each other for almost twelve years, they were neither of them kids, and they had taken the time to make sure that what they felt was real.

          God, was it ever real.

          “You have incredible restraint,” Molly purred approvingly, dropping one hand to his chest and brushing her fingers across his nipple. She bit her lip, eyes spellbinding as she moved over him.

          “You mean you had fun tormenting me and making me chase you,” Greg countered, sounding huffy but not mad at all. It had been a _phenomenal_ courtship. “Look at you now, teasing me and holding me down.” He squeezed her hips and held her down against his pelvis, letting her grind on him until she whimpered needily and threw back her head as her first orgasm crested. “You’re just using me like a giant dildo.”

          Molly laughed breathlessly and her eyes crinkled with amusement. “But you’re even better than that. You have a tongue,” she leaned over and tangled her own with his, kissing him sweetly. “And long, long fingers,” she watched approvingly as his long fingers curled around her breasts, “Mmm, oooh, oh, Greg…and you make a great lasagna.”

          She yelped and giggled when he tickled her, squirming on his lap and sending shivers straight up and down his spine. He stilled, eyes wanting to roll back in his head. “Give me a minute or I’m going to spill right here and now.”

          “Not yet,” Molly play-pouted, “I want to Bond when we come, like we said.”

          “Then you’d best stop toying with me and get to work, missy.” Greg popped her on the bum and she saluted him snappily, bouncing enthusiastically on his cock. It was meant to be playful, but he was so worked up and the sight of her was so enticing that Greg groaned wholeheartedly when the tingle started low in his belly and his bollocks drew up tight to his body in preparation.

          Not willing to play about any more, Greg scooped Molly to him with one arm and pivoted, spilling her on her back and climbing over her. Within seconds he was sinking back into her willing cunt, and she sighed deliciously. “Got you right where I want you,” Molly asserted in a dreamy voice, winding her arms around his neck.

          He kissed her as he started to thrust, slowly at first, but quickly picking up his pace, thrusting harder and deeper, bottoming out and then drawing back out almost all the way. Molly spread her legs, bent them at the knees, planted her feet on the mattress and thrust back, quickly establishing a mind-melting rhythm. Greg nuzzled her throat, licked her sweat, kissed and sucked on her pulse point. Molly began to flutter and shiver around his cock, and Greg sucked harder, thrusting deep until she came with a thin keening sound.

          Definitely not going to last long. The fading pulses of her channel were already almost too much. Greg thrust harder, pounding down into Molly’s eager body as she coaxed him on with her words. When her voice became broken Greg changed the angle, rubbing fast and shallow over her clit until she broke apart again; as Molly came he turned his head and bit down.

          The Bond bite was meant to be exchanged during Heat, although most modern couples were too impatient to wait. The Heat and Rut rendered the bite almost painless, but exchanging them during sex, while orgasming, was almost as good. Still, it hurt. Molly squealed, long and thin, arching against him, coming in waves even as he broke through the skin and tasted her blood.

          Head lolling, Molly went limp under him, hands lazily stroking his back.

          “Mine,” Greg said gruffly, licking the bite, sealing their Bond. “My Molly, my mate, my Omega.”

          Her smile was distant as her legs slid loosely down on either side of his, and Greg felt a wash of tenderness. “Good?”

          “Mmm _hmm_ ,” Molly purred, opening heavy lidded eyes. She smiled brilliantly, “Finish, beloved.” Her hand rose and stroked his cheek, and Greg lowered his head to capture her mouth in a kiss as he resumed his relentless motion. She was too relaxed to do much, but her hand rode his face even as the other hand slid down his back, clutching possessively. “I’m yours, Greg, and soon you will be mine.”

          He knew his face was desperate, he felt desperate, and he locked his eyes on Molly’s and pushed home once, twice and then came in a long shuddering wave. Even as the first spark of pleasure lit, Molly’s hand on his cheek had turned his head and he bared his throat willingly, anticipating her bite. It _did_ hurt, a glorious pain that felt right. Greg groaned helplessly, hips stuttering as Molly tightened her inner muscles and milked him dry. She sucked hard and then released his neck, licking and sucking, nuzzling him with little soft words and wordless growls.

          Unable to move, Greg lay for a moment on Molly, aware he was squashing his mate into the mattress but powerless to budge. Finally he willed his quivering muscles to respond and pushed up. Molly wound her arms and legs around him, “Stay. Please. For just a little while.”

          Relaxing, Greg laid over his mate, feeling the matching thuds of their hearts, the sense of happiness and rightness that had gripped him. Slowly, he became aware that through the Bond he could feel Molly’s answering happiness, her contentment. It flowed between them like a river, cool and pure and life-giving.

          “I love you, Molly Hooper,” he dipped his head and kissed her sweetly, “You make me happy.”

          Happy tears glossed her eyes, and she cupped his face in both her small hands, “ _You_ make _me_ happy, Greg, and I love you so deeply.” She tossed her head slightly, blinking, and shook the tears from her eyes, “Opening the door to you that day was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.” She wound her arms around him and let him roll onto his side, pulling her along with him so they were plastered head to toe to one another, but she wasn’t in danger of smothering. “My Greg. My mate. _My Alpha_.”

         

         

**Author's Note:**

> In my A/B/O world:  
> -Alphas can be male or female; female alpha are hermaphrodites; any alpha can impregnate a female Beta, and can impregnate Omegas of either primary gender, and a male Alpha can impregnate a female Alpha, but not the other way around.  
> -Betas can be male or female; they have only a primary gender; male Betas can impregnate female Betas or Omegas of either gender.  
> -Omegas can be male or female; male Omega are hermaphrodites (sans breasts unless nursing young); Omegas are incredibly fertile and can be impregnated by any Alpha or Omega regardless of gender; both male and female Omegas can be impregnated by male Beta. They can breed with one another, and male Omegas are capable of impregnating anyone except for male Alphas and male Betas.  
> -Alpha/Alpha relationships are extremely rare and still frowned upon.  
> -Omegas of either primary gender have historically suffered persecution and disenfranchisement up until the last 50-60 years. Female Omega are especially privy to masochistic, condescending and patronizing treatment, particularly at the hands of Alpha. They are considered precious but child-like and delicate, secondary-citizens in need of special treatment, a stigma they have worked hard to overcome.  
> -Heat is the powerful mating cycle experienced by Omegas. Rut is the corresponding cycle for Alphas. Betas do not experience these mating cycles.  
> -Non consensual acts are not permitted by society, although they do happen, Alphas in particular are aggressive when their preening and courtship is rejected. Despite the overwhelming biological imperative that drives Heat and Rut, consent is required by both parties. Most modern, un-Bonded Omega without mates will use suppressants at least part of the time. Alpha do occasionally use suppressants, but they also depend on pheromone-blockers and scent-masks to cut down on surprises when encountering an Omega in Heat. This is particularly useful in the workplace.  
> -Bonding is the exchange of bond-mark bites between any couple of either primary or secondary gender. It is more common with Alphas and Omegas although Betas do participate. Bonding is deeper and stronger than engagement or marriage, a more ancient and pack aligned act. Bonds can be broken.  
> -Mates: choosing one person over all others to be your mate.  
> -Packs: they don't come into this story, but in my verse, should you care, they are more of a rural or tribal congregation, rarely practiced in the towns and cities. They do still exist and are very powerful and respected.  
> \--FINALLY: despite words like fangs, growling, scenting, preening, biting, Bonding and Mates, the people of this verse are human. Not animals or hybrids. They are the result of millennia of evolution. They are just very in touch with their primal natures.


End file.
